The ABCs of MCxC
by Kireteiru
Summary: Random 1-shots about the relationship between the Chief and Cortana at various points in and out of the games and in AUs. Major OOC in some chapters. I don't own Halo. Complete!
1. A is for Alternate

**A is for Alternate**

**(**_**AU**_**)**

They wanted him to break.

They called him here to destroy this world, the mirror of the one that he had been called upon to serve, to protect, despite the hardship on the road. They made him Haka Chisei, Grave Mind, in hopes that the abnormal ability would drive him mad.

They failed spectacularly.

Now the Forerunner called him Kamishiru, God slayer, because he caused the damage that eventually killed them inside the Tower of Eternity and discovered the truth: they were not the goddesses of the Forerunner at all. The real ones, Epheria and Selenica, had been sealed below the Tower of Eternity hundreds of years before he had even been dragged away from his own universe.

He had spent a small eternity guarding the universe from the shadows, Cortana at his side (and who knows how she managed to follow) after the Alpha Halo Incident. Now, all he had to do was finish off the P'Vort, and then….

Home. Rest and, hopefully, retirement. Thanks enough for a job well done.

* * *

AN: This… is based off a dream I have a week or so ago. I might actually get around to making a full-length story out of it.

Someday… *sweatdrop* More to follow. Eventually....


	2. B is for Brutal

**B is for Brutal**

**(During **_**Halo **_**series****)**

"Was that truly necessary?"

"Yes."

Pause.

"Okay, maybe it was a little bit of overkill..."

"A _LITTLE_?? Chief, you practically leveled the city! It may be abandoned now that the Covenant are here, but I'd hardly call hijacking a Scarab and using it to take out the destroyer a 'little bit of overkill.'"

"Spartans are extreme in every way."

"Uh huh, sure." He just knew she was rolling her eyes at him. "So, mind explaining to me what the plan is now?"

"Find another Scarab."

"And hijack it and level more of the city..."

"Actually, I was thinking that you should have some fun with this one."

"..."

"..."

"... I think you need a psych exam."

"I think I should be insulted."

"Hey, I'm nothing if not honest."

"No, you're brutally honest."


	3. C is for Crazy

**C is for Crazy**

**(**_**Halo 2**_**)**

"What were you thinking?!?"

"I'm not entirely sure…"

"I've been on some of your more insane runs, Chief, but trusting that Gravemind was absolutely crazy."

"I wasn't thinking, okay? I just really wanted out and away."

"It gave you the creeps, too?"

"Spartans don't get creeped out."

The construct raised an eyebrow from inside High Charity's system. The man was clearly lying, based on his biomonitors, but she wouldn't call him out on it, since he was obviously unsettled by the Flood intelligence. In truth, she agreed with him entirely; that… _thing_… was a monster. It had to be destroyed, but for now, Truth took the priority.

"That structure, in the center of the city, it's a Forerunner ship, and Truth is heading straight for it! If he leads the Covenant fleet to Earth, they won't stand a chance. You have to stop him."

"That brute has the Index. And Miranda and Johnson. He can activate the ring."

"If he does, I'll detonate _In Amber Clad_'s reactor just like we did the _Autumn_'s; it'll destroy this city and the ring." Both soldier and construct look toward the Flood infested ship, crashed into the side of an enormous (and highly decorative) pillar. "It's not a very original plan," Cortana admitted," but we know it'll work."

The Chief reached for her, but she said, "No. I don't want to chance a remote detonation. I need to stay here."

'And she calls me the crazy one.'

A/N: Meh. If anyone actually reads this and spots any errors, let me know, and I'll correct them.


	4. D is for Duty

**D is for Duty**

**(During **_**Halo**_** series / Post **_**Halo 3**_**)**

At first, the Master Chief agreed to carry Cortana out of a sense of duty. She was a valuable tool to use against the Covenant, collecting live intelligence on the battlefield and relaying that information to him and the other Spartans. On Alpha Halo, she could have easily let him fire the ring; it would have wiped out the Covenant and the Flood, but she would have been unharmed.

It was then that his view of her began to change, he realized years later. She became a teammate, family like his combat brothers and sisters from Reach, and when he was on Cairo Station before Delta Halo, he would occasionally seek her out just to fill the silence and emptiness between combat simulations.

And then when she stayed behind on _High Charity_… that was the real eye-opener.

"After I'm through with Truth…"

"Don't make a girl a promise… if you know you can't keep it."

Now he was standing next to the altar, wearing his dress whites and waiting apprehensively for the wedding march to begin. He was nervous, but only his remaining siblings would be able to see that-

-And then she appeared in the doorway at the end of the aisle, holding on to Lord Hood's arm, the Admiral having offered to walk her down the aisle. The moment Cortana saw his face, she visibly brightened, and a shy smile appeared on her face. He felt his lips quirk up in response, and he waited somewhat impatiently for her to reach him, accepting her hand when Lord Hood offered it to him.

She squeezed his hand, and he gave her a gentle squeeze in response.

Cortana was once the Master Chief's AI. She would soon become his wife.


	5. E is for Earth

**E is for Earth**

**(Post **_**First Strike**_**, Pre **_**Halo 2**_**)**

The planet was… eerily beautiful, sprawled out before him in the void. There was an immense hurricane out in the Atlantic, swirling its destructive way toward the United States, and a system of snowstorms and blizzards were making their way across Europe, taking out power lines and communications. The colors, the contrast between the ocean and the land was unbelievable, and he could clearly see, even from orbit, a massive sandstorm winging its way across the Sahara, heading for Morocco.

"Man still hasn't found a way to control the weather, but rest assured, they're working on it."

He was not entirely surprised that she'd popped up, but her sudden speech startled him, made him jump and look around warily.

The construct waved at him from her holopanel, and he made his way over to greet her.

"You've never been to Earth before, have you?" she asked, no doubt looking through his file even as she spoke.

"Once, a long time ago. I barely remember it." His voice seemed nostalgic. "I was four, maybe five? My parents… took me to visit someone. In the US, I think."

"Hmm." Cortana seemed to stare off into space, investigating. "Yep, there you are. Twenty-five sixteen, to Florida. I hear it's nice there." She smiled softly. "You were so cute when you were little."

The Spartan felt his cheeks heating against his will and grunted, turning back to the spectacular view of humanity's home.

"Are you blushing?" He sensed her trying to lean around on her holopad to get a better look at his face, ending up having to settle for peering at his reflection in the glass when he ducked his head. "You are!" she laughed, "I didn't know that Spartans could get embarrassed."

"Neither did I." He didn't sound happy about it.

"Don't worry; I'm not going to tell anyone. God forbid your image of pure masculinity and lack of anything conventionally human be soiled by a lowly AI."

"That wasn't what I was worried about."

"Oh?"

"What if this affects my performance on the battlefield?"

"I'm sure you'll be fine. I'll back you up."

So Spartan and construct silently watched as the earth spun slowly beneath them, representing everything that they were fighting and possibly might end up dying to defend.


	6. F is for Friendship

**F is for Friendship**

**(Post **_**Halo 3**_**)**

"So why are we here again?"

"I have no idea. Lord Hood just told me to sit here and make sure you don't go anywhere."

"Where would I go? I don't have any legs!"

'That was kind of my thought…'

The door to the conference room that they had been contained in, slid open with a soundless hiss, admitting Lord Hood into the room, and both Spartan and construct simultaneously raised an eyebrow at their superior officer. The officer didn't seem at all surprised by the Spartan's inability to stand still and said, "This way, Chief. You, too, Cortana."

"Are we in trouble?" the construct asked, leaning back warily.

Hood blinked. "What?"

"Let me rephrase that. Am I in trouble?"

"What gave you that idea?"

"Being restricted to the Cairo, getting guarded by a SPARTAN…"

"For your first point, we needed to keep you in one place so we could find you easily. For the second, we didn't want anyone to spoil the surprise."

"Surprise?"

"Umm... Our 'surprise' is a dead body?"

"Not a dead body. It's an entirely synthetic body, built specifically for AI."

Cortana peered down at it from her holopanel, critically examining the artificial face. It look remarkably like her: same hair (it was a glossy black), slender figure, delicate hands and feet, long legs, elegant face... "Hmm."

"So it passes inspection?"

"For now," she said loftily, "I will have to examine it further for the inside." She knew that she was failing utterly at hiding her eagerness to be even a reasonable equivalent of human, and even though his face showed nothing of his internal emotions, Cortana easily detected the Spartan's amusement. "Stop laughing at me," she hissed.

"But I didn't do anything!"

"I can read you like an open book, Chief. So are we going to get this show on the road?"

The techs are very careful about inserting her cartridge into a nearly-invisible line at the base of the prosthetic body's skull, knowing that her "partner-in-crime" was a seven-foot-tall augmented human being well-known for being a lethal, killing machine and who was now trying (and failing) to hide his concern for his construct.

After about a minute, John saw her eyes flutter briefly, the AI still getting used to her physical form, the pull of gravity, the weight of her own limbs, and after a further thirty seconds, she managed to get her eyes to stay open. She turned her head and smiled at the Spartan, and he found himself quirking his lips in response, reaching out and gently grasping her hand. "How is it?" he asked.

It took her a minute to find her voice box, and she said, "Different, but not too different." Her voice had not changed at all.

"This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship," Linda jeered as she and the few remaining Spartans finally arrived on the orbital platform, "And you do realize that you're going to be the one taking care of her until she gets used to that body, right?"

"I'm going to _what_?"

"Good luck, Chief!"

"Now hold on a minute…!"

A/N: This is based off yet another wild dream that I had about six weeks ago between me and some of my friends from school. It translated into SPARTAN!razzing relatively well (and yes, I do know that none of the Spartans would actually do or say any of the above).


	7. G is for Greatness

**G is for Greatness**

**(**_**Halo **_**Arc)**

They called him a hero.

They used him to bring hope to humanity during the Human-Covenant War. He was heralded as a savior; there were many who believed that the Spartans actually were the Messiah. It seemed that everywhere he turned, people were passing out medals for something he'd done.

It tired him. All of the photo shoots, the press conferences, everything made him want to go back to the relative solitude of the battlefield and fight for those who insisted upon dragging him away from his "playground."

There are some who are born great. And then there are those who have greatness thrust upon them.

Either way, the Chief wears greatness well.


	8. H is for Horrible

**H is for Horrible**

**(Post **_**Halo 3**_**)**

"Wow. That sucked."

"I will admit that it's not the best movie I've ever seen…"

"If that is what the private sector is like _all the time_, then I can't wait to get off this 'enforced leave' that Lord Hood is requiring."

"It's not that bad!"

"Oh really? Then would you care to explain what all of that stuff with the flashing lights was?"

"It's called a rave, Chief, and it involves dancing."

"That didn't look like any dancing I've ever seen. It looked more like having sex in public."

"What form of dancing do you prefer? And how do you know about sex?"

"The battlefield kind. And the ODSTs were talking about it one day, so I made subtle inquiries."

"You're hopeless."

"What kind of 'dancing' do you prefer, then?"

"I can't dance. No legs. But if I could, I think I'd prefer ballroom dancing. It's much more elegant."

"I guess you'll have to leave me at the door, then. Either way, that movie still sucked."

"Why would I have to leave you at the door?"

"Because my kind of 'elegance' is killing things without getting blood on my armor."

"So are you going to become a mass murderer like the guy in the movie, then? Seeing as no evidence means no trial."

"I couldn't clean up a crime scene to save my life, Cortana, especially if the way they did it in the movie is even remotely like the way they do it in real life. So, why did we go see that… monstrosity?"

"Because critics gave fantastic reviews to that waste-of-ten-bucks."

"I'm never listening to them again."


	9. I is for Intent

**I is for Intent**

**(Post **_**Halo 3**_**)**

The Arbiter had never meant to say anything where anyone would overhear. He had merely commented to Rtas that the Demon seemed abnormally close to his construct, especially after he retrieved her from _High Charity_. The other Sangheili had replied that he had noticed as well, and then thought for a moment before saying, "That is understandable, though. He just got her back after an extended period of separation. She was essential to his operations on the first and second Halos, as I understand it, and though he tried to hide it, I could tell that he was unsettled, particularly when her message played. When she showed pain… I feared that he might try to leap into the container to rescue her, though she was not actually there."

"Perhaps their relationship is more than it seems."

"That, too, is infinitely possible."

But someone had overhead: one of ONI's more cruel officers, and he told the Council. Now the Spartan and his AI were fugitives from some truly idiotic law regarding relationships between humans and artificial intelligences. The Sangheili dervish-king had unhesitatingly offered the warrior and his construct secret asylum on Sangheilios, which had been taken up on as soon as the message actually reached him.

Even though ONI just _knew_ that the Spartan was on the foreign world, an invasion to bring the Chief to ONI's twisted sense of justice would be construed as a declaration of war, and the Sangheili would inevitably win. The Arbiter continued to protect his battle brother and his mate until their deaths.

As they say, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.


	10. J is for Justice

**J is for Justice**

**(Post Halo series, refers to **_**Halo 2 **_**& **_**3)**_

It was poetic justice, John mused, that the Prophet of Regret and Prophet of Truth were both killed in Forerunner structures before their "Great Journey" could be fully realized. If he had subscribed to any particular religion, he would have said that his deity of choice was laughing at them or that karma was biting their asses from here to kingdom come.

Then that made him wonder, was this a deity's way of laughing at _him_?

He blinked slowly, trying to remember why he was here in the first place, before pacing off into the depths of the store, searching for the item in question. Of all the things for her to ask for, for Christmas… why would she want that when she was there when it happened?

John sighed. 'Who am I to question the mysterious ways of women? The other Spartans will probably want to borrow it after she uses it…'

"Can I help you?"

John turned to look at the teenager that had approached him despite his aura of "fear me, I am Soldier with a capital S." "Electronics?" he asked.

"All the way in the back. Anything in particular?"

"_The Halo Campaign_."

"Ah. We've been keeping all of the copies in the back because people keep trying to steal them. I'll go get one for you." She was back in five minutes, carrying a rectangular box about eight inches long, six inches wide, and three inches thick. It had an image of himself, the Arbiter, and the rest of the Spartans on the front, Cortana standing on his palm holoscan, their background being Installations Zero-Four, Zero-Five, and Zero-Zero. She abruptly seemed to take a good look at him as she rang up his item and checked his military ID for his discount, and she raised an eyebrow when she saw his name.

"Don't ask; it's not for me. She," he gestured to Cortana, "wants to play it to check for 'historical accuracy' and they," meaning the other Spartans, "want it after her because they weren't there."

"I'll take your word for it," she said and let him escape from the store without drawing attention to his presence in exchange for his autograph.

Yes, Justice had a very funny sense of humor, the Spartan mused as he watched his AI-slash-girlfriend decimate the Covenant soldiers on the screen (the Spartan!family had hijacked a conference room so they could use the projector), and at times he wondered if the joke was on him.


	11. K is for Kill

**K is for Kill**

**(semi- AU **_**Halo 1**_**)**

Ever since he was eight years old, John knew how to kill people. He knew how to use a knife on a man's spine and pierce his heart and lungs with that same strike. He knew how to strangle silently, he knew how to destroy dramatically, and he knew how to get creative. Before the Fall of Reach, there had been a running bet amongst the Spartans that he would never have to repeat the exact same method of killing someone because he'd keep making up new ones.

His skill with murder wouldn't help him here.

With speed that Kelly would have been proud of, he scoured the battlefield for – a medic. A moment later, he was at the dead man's side, closing his eyes and rifling swiftly through his gear, searching for a defibrillator because all medics were required to carry a portable version in hopes that a successful use would prevent someone else from being transferred to the front lines -

His hands brushed the plastic casing, and he was back at the other soldier's side, already opening the officer's uniform while his squad mates provided cover fire.

"Take the backing off first, Chief. Otherwise it's pointless."

The helpful female voice in his ear was right, as always, and he tore off the adhesive plastic, charging the paddles. Lady Luck was smiling on him that day, because it only took one shock to restart the officer's heart (Cortana commented that Lady Luck was _always_ smiling on him). The Spartan sat back to give the other soldier some room to breathe, using his armored and shielded body as a barrier between the man they came to rescue and the furious firefight going on behind him.

"Captain Keyes," John said quietly, arm darting out to sweep a handful of Infection pods against a wall, "we need to get moving. It's not safe here."

The officer looked around and attempted to get to his feet but was forced to accept the

Spartan's help when he staggered and almost fell. The Master Chief effortlessly caught him by the arm and held him upright until the man regained his balance, and the rescue squad quickly high-tailed it out of the Flood – infested _Truth and Reconciliation_, hijacking a Spirit dropship to reach the _Pillar of Autumn_ faster than it would take to walk there.

Sometimes even the best killers need to save a life.


	12. L is for Live

**L is for Live**

**(Post **_**Halo 3**_**)**

It was a nice-enough place to live, John supposed. Perfect little houses on a perfect little street in a perfect little town a mile outside of the city. However, that didn't stop him from turning to look at Cortana and say, "Please, tell me you are joking."

"You don't like it?"

"It… it's too… not me."

"Hmm." The construct eyed the neighborhood. "It seems nice enough."

"The people here would probably resent our early-morning training sessions."

"Naw, ya think? What is Lord Hood thinking, letting you Spartans out into the private sector?"

"I think HE should be the one getting the psych exam." John tapped the gas pedal, and the Warthog rolled forward down the street as the pair continued looking at the houses; their flawless symmetry made the rampant artificial intelligence want to blow them up. "Are we done here? We've already decided that we don't like it here."

"What's this 'we,' kemosabe? You're the one who's going to be living here."

"Huh. Really?"

"I _am_ still the property of the UNSC, Chief."

"I thought that Doctor Halsey assigned you to be my caretaker in the private sector."

"Did she?" Cortana was silent for a moment as she checked. "Okay, I guess she did."

"Which means that we need to find a place that you like, too."

"I'll be happy if we have Internet access so I can post incriminating videos of you on Youtube."

"You dinosaur, Youtube's been dead and gone for decades."

"Damn. On to the next neighborhood?"

"And here's hoping it isn't crime-infested or too perfect."


	13. M is for Mercy

**M is for Mercy**

**(**_**Halo 3**_**)**

There were often times that the Arbiter wondered if the Demon was capable of mercy, or if he even knew what the word meant. He seemed to be an emotionless machine when they met briefly on Installation Zero-Five, below the Library, and that even more firmly entrenched the idea that he was a demon in the Arbiter's mind.

And then when he had first joined the group that had gone out to retrieve the Spartan, the warrior could have easily ignored the words of Sergeant Johnson and pulled the trigger of his pistol. That was what made him wonder: was the Demon truly as emotionless, as merciless, as he was supposed to be, as his superiors wanted him to be? At that time, he resolved to cross-examine the warrior when their peoples were not under such extreme duress.

However, he got the opportunity in the form of Cortana's message to the warrior, and the fact that it was an audio-visual recording enabled him to watch the Spartan's reactions to her words. When she collapsed, the Master Chief seemed ready to storm the gates of the human's "Heaven" or even those of "Hell" to save her, and Rtas concurred with his observations.

On the Ark, after Truth's defeat and the Gravemind's second betrayal, the discovery of the almost-rebuilt Installation Zero-Four seemed all the excuse he needed to go charging into _High Charity_, despite being low on ammo and with no support. He claimed that it would be easier on the remaining soldiers to have an Index already there rather than having to hold the Halo against the Flood and wait for Spark to fabricate one.

The Demon was capable of mercy: he saved the personnel of the UNSC and the Separatists from having to directly fight the Flood for who knows how long, he saved his construct from the clutches of the Parasite, he saved the universe form being nothing but food. He was the opposite of what the Hierarchs had claimed, and the Arbiter supposed that if the Master Chief was capable of mercy, then could their peoples not be the same?

_I know I better stop trying,_

_You know that there's no denying,_

_I won't show mercy on you now…_

Within Temptation, "What Have You Done?" (_Heart of Everything_)


	14. N is for Nightmare

**N is for Nightmare**

**(Post **_**Halo 3**_**)**

He was helpless in the face of its power. His armor, his augmentations, his adult form were gone; he was just a panicked, scared six-year-old child, running from the monsters that always seemed to be right on his heels, biting at his ankles, tearing at his hair.

He ran into an alley, and the monsters ran on past, never noticing that he had left the beaten path. He sank to the ground in relief, eyes closed, face turned upward toward the red sky, red as blood, as if the city he was in was burning to the ground. After a moment of rest, he looked around the alley – and barely managed to stop himself from screaming in horror.

Mendez. Halsey. Linda. Kelly. Sam. Fred. Fhajad. Will. Grace. Alice. Douglas. Jerome. Jorge. Rene. Kirk. Isaac. Anton. James. Soren. Jacob Keyes. Miranda Keyes. Johnson. Arbiter. Everyone he knew and cared about, dead. Heaped into a pile like they weren't even worth the effort it would take to infect them.

He had to get away.

Without even thinking, he scrambled to his feet, briefly touching his hand to the ground for balance when he pitched forward, and bolted from the alley, his only thought being, 'Getawaygetawaygetaway!' For the moment, nothing was pursuing him, but he still ran. Ran as if Hell itself was coming to take him into its lake of fire, as if a singularity was going to swallow him up any second.

Finally, he could run no more, lungs burning, chest heaving, legs aching, feet throbbing, adrenalin gone from his system, and he collapsed onto the harsh asphalt of what had once been a road, now shattered and broken and split in such a way that it would take more than a simple resurfacing to make it usable again. He lay there, panting, gasping, struggling to get air into his oxygen-starved body, eyes closed as tears leaked silently down his face.

"This is UNSC AI serial number CTN Zero-Four-Five-Two-Dash-Nine."

His eyes shot open; he knew that voice, those words. He forced himself up to look at his surroundings, and there she was, not six feet in front of him, her holographic form an unpleasant shade of green with tentacles sticking out from where her neck joined with her right shoulder and half of her rib cage and left leg rotted away.

"_No…"_

"I am a monument to all your sins."

He jerked awake, her name on his lips, and he was instantly bolt upright, gasping for air, body drenched in a cold sweat, muscles taut against an unseen foe, fingers clenched in the sheets. His gaze twitched erratically around the room, searching for something, anything out of place-

All was as it was supposed to be; his pistol on the nightstand, assault rifle on the small desk with the rest of his standard gear, armor getting upgraded down in the machine shop. His breathing slowed to a more normal pace, but a hand on his shoulder made his head snap around.

Cortana peered up at his with sleepy eyes, her face showing the tired concern of one who has just been woken up by another's nightmare and hasn't quite realized it yet. He moved to lie back onto the mattress, drawing her into his arms and burying his face in her neck as she stroked his back soothingly, closing his eyes and furrowing his brow in worry.

"It's not real, John," she whispered, threading her fingers though his short gray hair, gently kneading his scalp.

"It was real enough." His voice was rough with sleep and fear. "The others were dead, and you had been infected."

"I'm here." She shifted so that she could look into his eyes. "We're all okay, thanks to you. You don't need to worry. It's just a nightmare."

'Yeah… Just a nightmare…' he thought, already drifting off again. Neither noticed a set of eerie red eyes watching them from the shadows under his desk.

"_I? I am a monument to all your sins." _

Gravemind, _Halo 2_


	15. O is for Ocean

**O is for Ocean**

**(**_**Halo 1**_**)**

The clear seawater lapped at his boots as the Spartan stood at the shore of the island, taking a momentary break. Despite the fact that there were Covenant soldiers just around the bend, the island containing the Silent Cartographer was remarkably peaceful, and he snatched a second to enjoy the silence that would soon be shattered by the rhythmic rat-tat-tat of gunfire.

He tilted his head up an looked up into the "blue" sky, following the curve of Halo with his eyes, from the horizon line up to the apex of the ring and back down to the other horizon, catching faint impressions of clouds, vast oceans, impassable deserts… This ring was beautiful, but…

'Whoever controls Halo controls the Fate of the universe.'

Keyes' words echoed inside his head as he turned and trudged back up the beach to the Warthog sitting just beyond the sand, climbing into the driver's seat and punching the ignition. The engine throttled on with a roar that died down into a low purr that rose slightly when he stepped on the gas, tearing toward the ridge that provided the safest method of rounding the bend.

It wasn't the first time that he'd stood by an ocean, but it was the first time that the very sight of the sea made the hair on his neck stand on end.

A/N: Major OOC in the next chapter, I'm warning you now.


	16. P is for Price

A/N: Major OOC; don't like, don't read.  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**P is for Price**

**(Post **_**Halo 3**_**)**

"Are you sure that there's nothing that can be done for her?"

"I've looked into every available option, John, even the ones that are highly illegal. I'm sorry."

The Spartan sighed quietly, despair seeping into his frame, clearly visible in the slump of his shoulders, the dip of his head. "I just… She's always been there. Once she's gone…"

Doctor Catherine Halsey furrowed her brow as she gazed at one of the last of her seventy-five "children." John-117 had already lost so much, and now he was about to lose the only person who had survived the whole of what the UNSC was now calling the "Halo Campaign." She wished there was something she could do, anything, but all of the options that would work were too far outside of the time constrains that they had to work in. "Go. Be with her now. She'll go a happy AI if you're by her side."

The Chief nodded and entered the tech room that they had been standing outside of eyes, instantly drawn to the tiny, red form curled up on the holopanel in the center of the room, and for a moment, he was unable to move forward, wrapped in misery and despair. It was his duty to save people, to get them out alive from impossible situations, and now he was as helpless as a leaf, a grain of sand against the tide.

Cortana truly was dying.

John forced his body into motion once again, kneeling next to the projector. "Hey."

The construct looked up and, recognizing him, gave him a heart-shatteringly beautiful smile, happy to merely have her Spartan at her side in her final hours. The techs, out of respect for the Spartan, cleared out of the room, leaving them alone and letting Cortana pass on to "AI heaven" in peace.

"Hi, John." Even her voice showed the effects of her slow degradation; barely able to move higher that a whisper, and a weak one that he had to strain to hear, at that. "How are you?"

His lips quirked slightly. Even on her deathbed, still worrying about him. "Been worse."

She smiled sadly, then curled tighter around herself, insecure about something.

"What's up?" he asked, even more concerned.

"When…when I'm gone… will you miss me?"

"I miss you already," he told her, "Life won't de the same without you telling me to run up that pyramid, blow up this building, kill those alien parasites…"

She chuckled weakly. "Just like old times." She tried to sit up, to touch the warrior's hand, but was too weak to do so. He lightly touched the pad of her finger to her cheek, grateful to the Sangheili for giving the UNSC the tech for solid holograms, enabling him to touch the face of his tovarisch, his partner. She closed her eyes and leaned against his hand, face clearly torn between joy and longing. Finally, she asked, "Do AI go to heaven? It sound like a nice place."

"I have no doubt about that. You practically have one of those 'get in free' passes." He shifted his hand so that she was cradled on it.

"I don't want to die."

"That's normal."

"I'm scared."

"That's normal, too."

"I don't want to leave you-u. You still ne-eed me." She looked on the verge of tears as she clung tightly to his thumb. They both knew that the vocal functions going meant that her time was close, and John glanced back out the window by the door, where they could see Dr. Halsey agruing furiously with Paragosky.

"I'm right here," he said quietly, ignoring the shouting in the background, "I'll always be here."

"_I'll be there for you, when the rain starts to fall…"_

"Exactly."

"I-I-I wish we could have me-e-e-et in peacetime… actually gotten to kno-o-o-ow each other." She was clearly struggling to hold on even as her programming began to unravel around her.

"Even so, I'm glad to have met you, peacetime or no." He hesitated. She was almost gone, and no one would ever know… "My beloved," he murmured softly to her.

Her holographic eyes welled with tears of joy, and she squeezed his thumb, unable to speak. He cradled her in his hand as her avatar began to dissolve, finally vanishing completely after several minutes of visible struggles to hold on, and the Spartan rested a hand on the now empty holopanel, silently mourning. The construct had been eight years, three months, six days, thirteen hours, forty-seven minutes, and twenty-two seconds old, making her the longest-lived human-made AI ever created.

_"Smart AIs like Cortana, however, had no limits on their dynamic memory-processor matrix. Knowledge and creativity could grow unchecked. She would pay a price for her genius, however. Such growth would eventually lead to self-interference. Cortana would one day literally start thinking too much at the expense of her normal functions. It was as if a human were to think with so much of his brain that he stopped sending impulses to his heart and lungs. Like all the other smart AIs that Dr. Halsey had worked with over the years, Cortana would effectively 'die' after an operational life of seven years."  
_ - Doctor Catherine Halsey internal monologue, _Halo: The Fall of Reach _(Eric Nylund)


	17. Q is for Quarry

**Q is for Quarry**

**(Semi-AU)**

He could hear his prey, moving restlessly about somewhere ahead, and he dropped into a hunting crouch, prowling silently forward towards the faint rustling. His prey was trying to be quiet, she really was, but she could not seem to find a place that enabled her to take a full 360-degree scope of her surroundings.

The predator was one of the most dangerous hunters out there, after all.

He quietly circled her chosen hiding place, assessing. High ground, perch doing little to block her view…Perhaps she had learned something from him. If he approached her now, he would not go unnoticed for long.

A smirk twitched his lips, and he withdrew to plot.

When he returned, she was gone, and he swore foully. Then, no, she had not gone; she was sleeping in the tall grass at the base of her tree/perch. He slinked around to the far side of the hill on which she had taken refuge and belly-crawled up to her side, peering down at her innocent face as she slept.

Now, how to wake her up…? Ah!

He smirked again and reached up, unsealing his helmet and setting it on the soil next to his armored body, leaning over and gently brushing his lips against hers. She shifted and murmured unintelligibly, moving closer to his warmth, and his smile widened against her lips. He kissed her again, deeper this time, making definitive contact, and her eyes fluttered, offering the briefest glimpse of electric blue eyes before they were again hidden behind fragile, pink eyelids.

He continued brushing butterfly kisses over her face until she finally woke, at first failing to realize the implications of him being so close. She responded eagerly to his attentions until he whispered, "You just lost The Game."

"AAAAUUUUUGGHH! Chief, I HATE YOU!!!!!!"

He darted away, laughing as she grabbed her paintball gun and tore after him, swearing more foully that the ODSTs.

Yes, without a doubt, she was the most amusing quarry he'd ever hunted.

A/N: You just lost the Game. *snicker*


	18. R is for Retirement

**R is for Retirement**

**(Post **_**Halo 3,**_** Post **_**Live**_** prompt)**

"How can they stand this-this- AUGH!"

"I know you have an anti-lazy fetish, Chief, but you need to calm down. We've only been here two days, and you're already going crazy."

"With good reason; I'm a SPARTAN, Cortana. We don't take to stagnancy well. At all, in fact. At least _you_ can do something."

"Go watch TV."

"And see all of those news channels with their reporters sitting outside my and the other SPARTANs' houses? I don't need to stalk myself, thank you for playing."

"Are they still out there?"

The SPARTAN-II know as John-117 slouched in his la-z-boy recliner, staring at the blank television screen as he waited for his construct to return from wreaking ungodly havoc in the poor broadcasting stations' systems. Purely out of curiosity, he turned on the TV to see what she had replaced the feed with, quickly switching over CNN –

"Oh! Ah… Ah! Faster!"

-And promptly turned off the television, trying to hide his blush.

"There! All better!" Cortana said as she returned to their house, immediately taking stock of anything that had changed in her absence. "…Why are you blushing?"

"Did you put pornography on _all_ of the networks?"

She instantly took on a sly look. "Maybe I did, and maybe I didn't. You have to admit, it got them away _really_ fast. I think you can leave your house now."

"Life with you is never boring. Especially when you're running around like a demented two-year-old with sharp objects."

RING!

"Ah, crap!" John fumbled for his cell phone and flipped it open. "Hello?"

"Why is there porn on Fox News?"

"Why do you think, Linda? Stalker reporters make Cortana fritz-y."

"The UNSC is going to descend upon you with all the wrath of Odin."

"Well, it's a good thing that the MJOLNIR Mark VII showed up yesterday, now isn't it?"

"We're supposed to be retired soldiers, sir, not preparing to wage war against the media."

"Cortana's already got that covered, Kelly, and give the phone back to Linda."

"Both of you are insane."

"That's 'crazy,' and there is a difference, believe it or not. If I was insane, I would have been cackling like a madman when I jumped from the _Cairo_."


	19. S is for Speed

**S is for Speed**

**(Post **_**Halo 3**_**, Post **_**Duty **_**prompt**_**)**_

Every Spartan publicly admitted that it was Kelly who had the speed. She always had, ever since they were "hooligan children" in boot camp on Reach, tearing across the bizarre jungle gym that CPO Mendez used to toughen them up and teach them teamwork.

While John was nowhere near her level of swiftness, he proved that SPARTAN-IIs, for every one of their thousand pounds each, were not just lumbering tanks. Especially on what was later referred to as The Mission.

The ship, the _Perfect Storm_, had been sent out to retrieve the Master Chief after the _Dawn_'s beacon finally came within range of the UNSC's receivers, and on the way home,the Spartans had been dispatched to contain a Flood outbreak on a planet alarmingly close to the Sangheili home world, Sangheilios, and had the situation well in hand. The Elites and the humans were fighting back to back as if they had been doing it for decades instead of a few years, maximum, and they were even jeering playfully with one another about each other's aim or physical blows.

And then a transport broke though the blockade that the "New Covenant" had set up.

Had it not been for the Master Chief's quick thinking, they might have lost the entire fleet. Blue Team hauled ass to a conveniently placed Forerunner teleporter and had the _Storm_'s AI hack in and beam them onboard, eliminating the problem before it even become one. He was later reported to have said, "If this earns me another medal, I quit."

Then, as the _Storm_ moved into a high-altitude, station-keeping orbit over Sangheilios itself, a priority transmission for the Master Chief came straight from Earth, letting him know that as he was teleporting onto the _Storm_ with Blue Team, Cortana was naming their daughter after her "grandmother."


	20. T is for Teach

**T is for Teach**

**(Post **_**Halo 3**_**)**

"Okay, grip it firmly but don't squeeze too hard, or you'll end up hurting yourself."

"Like this?"

"A little looser… There. Just like that."

"Got it. Now what?"

"Now we practice making sure that you can hold it properly. Hand it over."

"Okay, here you go."

"Now, show me how you hold it."

"Wrap your hand around it like this… Finger goes there… And then relax your grip, but not too much… There!"

"Good job, Cortana. Now that the basics are over with, we can get to the important stuff."

"What are you two doing?" Kelly asked as the Spartans rounded the corner with Doctor Halsey and CPO Mendez, coming upon John standing at Cortana's back, supporting her arms as she aimed the pistol at nothing in particular. Both Spartan and construct were blinking like deer in the headlights before a light bulb went on over John's head. He glared at his brothers and sisters in arms.

"I'm teaching Cortana how to shoot a gun. Why, what did you think we were doing, you perverts?"

"Oh, nothing."

The Chief muttered several uncomplimentary, unrepeatable four-letter words under his breath as he resumed the Guns and Ammo 101 lesson that he was giving his AI, and Cortana snickered at the razzing that flew so easily between the Spartans now that the war was over. They had relaxed so much…

Perhaps Kelly or Linda would be willing to teach her some tricks to catch her man…

A/N: I'm a posting machine today! And I'm not quite sure where this one came from, either...


	21. U is for Unexpected

A/N: Semi-Major OOC in this chapter; don't say I didn't warn you...

**U is for Unexpected**

**(Semi AU, Pre "Duty" prompt)**

"Talk about a plot twist. Didact had to kill his own lover to stop the advance of the Flood? I'm not sure I could do that."

"You wouldn't have to; I'm the AI here."

"Then could you sacrifice me for the sake of your mission, were that the case? Could you watch me die?"

She smiled bitterly as if he had just asked her if she could touch him. "Could you tear your own heart out and present it to me?"

"If you asked." The Spartan rested his cheek against his palm, elbow braced against the table, as he gazed at the foot-high hologram standing on his desk.

Cortana blinked and flailed for a reply, processors momentarily frozen as she struggled to comprehend - "What?"

"If you asked, I would tear my heart out for you and lay it and the universe at your feet. You're one of the few people I can be open and honest with, Cortana; you're one of my precious people. Didn't I prove that by risking life and limb for you on _High Charity_?"

The AI pinkened in embarrassment, touching her fingertips together and dropping her gaze to one side. "I-I had wondered why you came for me when Spark could have easily fabricated another Index… Once the Flood was gone, you could have come back for me…"

"Hey. No man, woman, or AI left behind. If you hadn't convinced me, I never would have let you stay behind in that city. And I wouldn't have let you stay behind period, had I known then what I know now."

Unbeknownst to the conversing pair, Catherine Halsey and the handful of remaining S-IIs stood outside of his room with their ears pressed to the door to the Chief's room. "Well," the Doctor said, straightening, "that was an unexpected and not unwelcome change of pace."

"Do you think they'll get married?"

"If they do, at least _we_ won't be surprised about it."


	22. V is for Vendetta

**V is for Vendetta**

**(**_**Halo 3**_**)**

Though he never showed it, the Chief was pissed. At Lord Hood for hesitating so long in his decision to sent him to the Ark, at the Arbiter for being so calm about it, at Miranda for not doing anything to hurry hm along. At Cortana for staying behind on High Charity.

At the Gravemind for even _thinking_ about laying one of its nastily unpleasant tentacles on _his_ AI.

The Spartan ruthlessly gunned down a handful of combat forms skittering about below him, taking a kind of twisted amusment from the indignant shrieks of the Gravemind as its soldiers died. 'Serves you right,' he thought, carefully sweeping the room with his assualt rifle before dropping down to the floor ten feet below. There were some pure forms loitering by a downed Pelican, and he slaughtered them as well, claiming extra grendades and eyeing the rocket launcher. To take or not to take…? Fuck it; he'd come back and get it later, since the Pelican wasn't too damaged and thus offered a means of escape. The flamethrower, however…

The combat forms made ungodly and annoying but simultaneously amusing wailing noises as he torched them with the helium-fed fire, the intense heat breaking their bodies apart, and the Spartan continued carelessly on past them, heading deeper into High Charity.

Once, he had had a vendetta against the Prophets who had ruled the once wondrous city of technological marvels, for their careless disregard of humanity's ancestry and subsequent order of destruction. Because of their zealotry, billions of people lost their lives to the Covenant's plasma weapons, including his combat brothers and sisters during the Fall of Reach.

Now, he walked the city's halls on a crusade against the Parasite that had consumed all life within, morphed the very walls of the structure into unrecognizable pillars of flesh, tainted its life-giving air with life-taking spores that stole away the lifebreath of all who walked its terrain unprotected. Even now, the being that the Prophets had so long preached against was spreading its deadly touch on the Ark, destroying countless lives as he searched for the one who could help them finish the fight early: Cortana.

The Spartan hefted the flamethrower, readjusting the way he held it to lessen the strain on his shoulders, proceeding deeper into the bizarre series of twisting, fleshy tunnels and torn metal, sparking wires dangling from the ceiling where panels had been ripped of and carelessly strewn about like toys.

If the Prophets were alive to see him in that moment, they would have run in terror while screaming like little human girls. This - _this_ was the last SPARTAN, a Demon wreathed in black clouds, a god of war in his element; an unstoppable force with a vendetta against the _thing_ inhabiting the city, and nothing was going to stand between him and his AI.


	23. W is for Witch

**W is for Witch**

**(Historical AU)**

King Leonidas sought out the approval of the Ephors, and his soldiers were no different, save one. This soldier went to see not an oracle, but a witch, a long-time family friend.

The cave was just as dark and dank as it had been the last time he'd set foot in it, but he ignored the natural unpleasantness and the shivers it caused as easily as he always had, descending into the gaping maw before he could change his mind and leave. He knew every step as well as he knew the spots where water would gather on them, causing him to weave back and forth on the stone to avoid slipping as he had many times in his youth.

Eventually the passage leveled out, and he rested his spear across his shoulders to prevent the staff from being damaged by any unexpected protrusions from the floor, despite the fact that he had smoothed the surface down himself when he was younger. He was much older now, and one of the soldiers that the king had chosen for their suicide mission to Thermopylae.

He exited the tunnel and arrived not in a cavern, as one would expect, but in a small valley with a dirt path leading down to a small but comfortable looking stone cottage at the edge of a tiny field of sheep and a few cattle. He started down the path, hefting his package and adjusting its weight on his arm as he descended to the valley floor, a scant score of feet to the immaculate green grass. Knowing that he was always welcome in the valley, he entered the cottage and left his burden on the floor by the table inside, leaving his spear and shield leaning up against the wall. He exited the house, looking briefly about for any sign of her presence – There! A thin trail of smoke above the forest.

He broke into a jog, armor clanking as he made his way through the trees to the usual location where she performed her magicks, and he leaned against one such thick trunk as he patiently waited for her to finish her spell. He made now claim to understand the language she was speaking over the boiling pot, but she had taught him enough to know that she was strengthening the wards around the valley that was her home.

She finished the spell shortly after he arrived and, seemingly realizing that something was amiss, peered about at the forest before her.

"It helps if you're looking at me."

She whirled around, blinked at him for a moment, and leaped into his arms, calling his name in delight. "I missed you," she told him, jerking him this way and that to see any injuries, "Has the king been good to you? I'll kill him if he tries anything!"

He laughed at her antics, saying, "I'm fine. I just came to say hello since I was in the area, and I left some supplies in your house for the winter."

"You're always thinking of me, aren't you?" she said almost petulantly, though he could see her futilely disguised delight, "You always bring me such nice things from the places you go."

"I like to do it. It makes you happy. By the way, I found what you asked me for before I left last time."

She visibly perked up. "You did? That's great!"

"Indeed. Let's go back to the house; I left it inside."

"AWWW! It's so CUTE!"

The witch nuzzled the tiny tiger-like cat as she cradled it in her arms like it was a human baby, and the cat purred loudly in reply, instinctively recognizing the aura of "Nature" that the witch carried. The Spartan watched in amusement as the cat rubbed up against his friend, seemingly reluctant when she set it on its own feet and rooted through the rest of the supplies that he had brought from foreign lands. Her "box of witchy things" was wrapped in leather to keep it dry and separated from the others: strange fruits and vegetables, samples of the meat from foreign animals, entire herb plants, their roots and soil still attached and wrapped in cloth soaked with water to keep them alive.

"Oh, this is perfect! Exactly what I needed. I owe you one." She peered at him where he sat at the wooden table, chair turned to the side so he could watch her examine his "gifts." "Something's wrong."

He quirked his head, a smile twitching his lips. "It's illegal to watch you enjoy yourself?"

"No, but normally you comment on my reactions to what you bring."

The Spartan sighed. "You're far too perceptive for your own good." He watched as she began potting the plants, adding water and decaying material to promote growth, waiting for an explanation. "I'm going with the king to Thermopylae."

CRASH!

She'd dropped the pot with the rosemary in it, and he gazed at her now-silently shaking form before getting up and walking over to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders from behind. "But you're going to die," she whispered softly, turning and burying her face in his strong chest, "The king knows better than to let you die. He knows that I'll curse Sparta."

"I know. He knows, too. But we don't have a choice. If Xerxes and the Persians come here, there won't be anything left of our people. So…"

"You came to say goodbye," she muffled, "for the last time."

"Yes."

"How long until you have to go?"

"Tomorrow night. The king sent me to ask for your blessing, since the Ephors refused to give theirs. And… I had other reasons for coming, as well." He gently let go of her and picked up the shards of the broken pot, cleaning the small cuts the sharp edges left in her feet. "I wanted to tell you myself, so that you would not have to deal with someone who came to tell you the news after the fact." He dumped the pieces into a larger pot so that they could be refired later.

A hand gripping the hem of his cape. "Stay."

The Spartan looked up at her, confused.

"You always leave, to get back to the city before sunset. Stay. If only for tonight." She peered up at him through the curtain of her dark hair, eyes begging, pleading with him to remain, not to leave her alone. "Please."

He sighed. "You know I can deny you nothing."

The next morning, they said their goodbyes at the entrance to the tunnel leading back to the city, and the witch silently watched him go, cat at her side, the Spartan unaware of the fact that he had given her exactly what she needed to call him back from the grave. She may have let him walk passively to his doom, but that didn't mean it would remain that way.

A/N: I had to throw Sparta in here somewhere. :)


	24. X is for Xenophobia

**X is for Xenophobia**

**(Post Halo 3)**

"What?" John almost tripped over the curb as he stepped up onto it, narrowly avoiding slamming his head into a concrete wall and possibly causing structural damage.

The reporter blinked, recorder in hand. "What, xenophobia? It's – "

"No, no," he said, righting himself and waving a hand dismissively, "I know what it means. What kind of a question is that? We've been working with the Sangheili for fifteen years and only now people are asking if we're xenophobic?" He slouched into the office building that was his intended target, handing the secretary his report and shoving his hands into his pockets as he slouched back out, the woman's eyes on his back sending chills up his spine. Under his breath, "Is it possible to be xeno against your own species?"

"I think it's a valid question."

"However valid it may be, it is very late. And no, it's not a problem."

"Care to explain…?"

"It may have taken a while to get over the whole 'you killed my combat brothers and sisters' thing, but we killed just as many of them. I'm willing to call it even. For now."

She raised an eyebrow but made note of his reasoning. "And what about the battle of Installation 00? Was there any point where you felt the urge to kill any of your Sangheili allies?"

"The Elites? No. The only ones I ever had the urge to kill were the Grunts. To us, whose hearing is a lot more sensitive than a normal human's because of our lifestyle, their voices are the metaphorical equivalent of nails on a blackboard."

"Understandable. Speaking of allies, how is Cortana?"

John instantly stopped and stared suspiciously at the reporter, visibly caught off-guard.

"..what?"

"Aside from the remaining Spartans, Doctor Halsey, and the Arbiter, you are the first to inquire after her health. And she's doing spectacularly, thanks for asking."

'A Sangheili is one of the few concerned about her? Hmmm…' Aloud, "Speaking of the Arbiter, is it true that he is dating SPARTAN-093?"

"If he is, it's news to me."

A/N: Thank you for your support as this story winds slowy but steadily to a close. I will post the non-explicit "extras" on this site, but if you want to read the NC-17 ones, PM me.


	25. Y is for Years

**Y is for Years**

**(Post "Price" prompt)**

Ten years.

It had been ten years since she died.

He tapped the cigarette against the corner of the ashtray to shake offer the burned paper and lifted the roll and tobacco to his lips, taking a long drag and holding the smoke in his lungs for a moment before exhaling it into the not-quite-dawn air.

In those ten years, the other Spartans had gotten married, though only Maria, who had retired much earlier, had produced any children. Though ONI had wanted him to do the same, both Doctor Halsey and Lord Hood pulled some strings and got them to lay off and respect his wish to remain single.

The media had been horrified. Apparently he had ruined more than a few people's prospects for fame.

An unbidden smirk twitched his lips before it faded as quickly as it had come. All of those who truly knew him understood that there was no moving on from a loss of that magnitude, and they accepted the fact that he would never be able to let her go.

He took another drag on his cigarette, watching as the sky before him slowly, _slowly_ lightened. It was now a very deep navy, but he could still tell that the sun was rising as he leaned against the Warthog, ashtray sitting on the hood next to him. She had always wanted to go to the beach – a beach, _any_ beach – and watch the sun rise over the sea, see the "green flash" in the water.

It was even lighter now, but still dark; even though the full moon was setting somewhere behind him, there was enough light to see by, to watch the waves swell and foam and then crash over onto the sand or previous wave, rolling up the shore for a few meters before slowing, stopping, and rolling back out again. The occasional flash of silver within the water alerted him to the presence of many small fish in the early morning sea, but his gaze was on the horizon. The navy sky was now shot through with pinks and oranges and red, and the wispy clouds in the upper atmosphere, the ones nicknamed "horse tails," only added to the ethereal effect of the beach at sunrise. It brought back memories…

"_You'd look cool if you smoked," he remembered her saying._

"_What?"_

"_Well, you just seem like one of those hardcore military types who'd smoke because you picked it up during the war. I dunno, I just think you'd look cool if you smoke."_

The Spartan took another long drag on his cigarette, tapping off the ashes into the tray as the mythological green flash lit the sea for the briefest of instants before the curve of the sun spilled over the horizon, making the waves gleam orange and pink.

John stubbed out the remains of his cigarette as the sun rose fully over the horizon line, and he leaned back against the Warthog, crossing his muscular arms. The first year he had come to the beach, it was because he was seeking even a temporary solitude on her birthday. He had come to escape the silence of his home, the void that still had yet to heal, and after three years, it became a tradition for him to do so. It was only five years ago that he would smoke a cigarette at sunrise for her, despite the fact that even one could kill him.

"Happy birthday, Cortana."

_Yes, I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all._

- "Need You Now," Lady Antebellum (Need You Now)

A/N: I was crying when I wrote this, but I think it came out okay.


	26. Z is for Zebra

**Z is for Zebra**

**(Post Halo 3)**

"What in all the blazes is that?"

"It's a zebra, Chief."

"It doesn't look like any zebra I've ever seen. Aren't they supposed to be striped? And black and white? This one looks like a polka-dotted bird of paradise!"

"According to the database, it's an experiment in genetic engineering, courtesy of ONI. They brought it out here so they could see how it reacts with the wild."

The highly unusual relative of the domesticated horse continued grazing on the wide-open grasslands, ignoring the commentary on its appearance in favor of stuffing its face.

"It's _so_ gonna die."

"Or maybe not."

"Oh?"

"Well, it strikes me as a metaphor for you and the Spartans in the private sector, Chief. Like it, you'll blend in well enough on your own, but as a group? Well, you'll epic fail."

"Thank you for that inspirational message, Cortana. So which way do we go?"

"That a-way."

The dotted zebra lifted its head and watched as the Warthog and its occupants sped toward the strange metal thing in the ground, where the rest of the two-legs were apparently trying to kill it by taking it apart slowly. Deciding that the two-legs were weird, it calmly returned to its afternoon meal.

A/N: Yay, it's over! I mean, aw, man, it's over. Extras will be posted when I finish typing them up (they've been written on actual paper! Gasp!)


	27. Extras

A/N: For the sake of these, all of the Spartans survived the augmentations and the Fall of Reach unless otherwise stated.

**E is for Epiphany**

**(Post **_**Halo 3**_**)**

It hit him one day, and with all the subtlety of a Brute. Why a training session with the other Spartans made him realize it, he wasn't quite sure, but now that he knew it, it refused to leave his head. Even if it did, something entirely unrelated could bring it back: a paint splatter, a bullet, a leaf.

It made him stare at his morning coffee like it had turned into the frog from the ancient Warner Brothers cartoon and started to sing and dance across the table, and his brothers and sisters told him as much. He blinked stupidly at them for a moment before he exploded out of his chair, demanding to know where Doctor Halsey was.

"Uh - her office, why?"

John moved at a speed that made Kelly proud, vaulting over the table without disturbing his untouched beverage and diving through an open window, sprinting for the office buildings on the other side of the base. He barely regained his senses in time to stop himself from bursting into her office without so much as a by-your-leave, and he knocked swiftly on the steel barrier before beginning to twitch nervously.

"Enter."

And a moment later, he plopped down into a chair in front of her desk, shoulders slumped, expression confused, which instantly concerned the director of the S-II program. They spoke for almost and hour and a half before she was called away to a meeting, and John left in a significantly lighter mood.

Until Cortana appeared in a burst of light on the holopanel by his bed at eleven at night, her expression that of the blackest scowl. Not even the sight of her bewildered Spartan wearing nothing but a loose pair of sweats hanging precariously low was able to lighten her mood, and she demanded, "Doctor Halsey won't let me into the security system, and she says that I'm supposed to ask you why."

"Because I think I'm in love with you."

Her expression was priceless.

**H is for Help**

**(Post **_**Halo 3, **_**semi-AU)**

"The coin…It was the coin's fault…"

The rampant whispers echoed around the bridge of the Forerunner flagship/super carrier, mindless of the extreme cold on the deck and the icy blood spilled on the floor next to the captain's hover chair, broken and on its side. The voice was undeniably female, though husky and deep with madness. Even though she was a rogue AI, Cortana could still think coherently, could still fiercely love her Spartan, cryo-frozen though he was on the steel floor of the bridge and injured beyond what even his body was capable of handling.

The corpses of his ONI attackers were strewn about the room by the half-open door, cooked from within by the Sentinels hovering around the fallen Spartan. The generator in the core of the ship continued to replace the few that were being destroyed by the remaining soldiers sent to kill _her_ Chief. John had barely had time to draw his own weapon before they opened fire, tearing through his shields and puncturing his armor, shredding muscle and tissue within the hard casing.

The AI had instantly reprogrammed the floating guards to attack the ONI officers that had boarded their ship under the guise of rescue while she secreted cryo gases into the room to save her Spartan before he bled to death.

They were now en-route to Reach, in hopes that Dr. Halsey and the other Spartans would receive their cryptic message and be there. Cortana knew that the Doctor was the only chance that they had for healing the last fully active Spartan alive, and his brothers and sisters could guard him while he was in the hospital.

"Children of my enemy, why have you come? I offer no forgiveness; a father's sins…passed to his son."

The ship was dark to conserve power, despite the fact that there was no need; the darkness was solely to keep the temperature down for her beloved.

"Resignation is my virtue…"

Come back to me, John. I love you.

"…like water I ebb and flow. Defeat is merely the addition of time to a sentence I never deserved... but you imposed."

I need you.

"Silence fills the empty grave, now that I have gone…"

I want you here with me.

"…but my mind is not at rest, for questions linger on."

Mother, please. Help him.

**P is for Paintball**

**(Post Halo 3 Semi AU)**

For almost three hours now, random muffled bangs, unexplainable gunfire, and indecipherable shouting had been coming from the training grounds at the edge of the base, and by now, anyone who had been on base was at least remotely curious to see what in the seven hells was going on. Occasionally, the residents had seen small poofs of smoke disappearing into the air over the trees, and that made them even more curious.

Finally, in the midst of a meeting, Lord Hood stood up, slammed his hands down on the table, and said, under no uncertain terms, that he was going "to find out what that bloody racket is!"

Which naturally meant that he was followed to the scene of the crime, only to see two Spartans go tearing by, one firing as the other fled, the latter holding a blue flag. Finally, the one who was firing seemed to give up on the gun, only to throw itself bodily at the other, doing the equivalent of an armored football tackle to the now-very-muddy ground. They wrestled briefly before the firing one wrested the flag from the other's grip and sprinted away, the flag's former carrier in hot pursuit.

"…What is going on?"

"Oh, the Spartans are playing capture the flag with paintball weaponry."

Lord Hood and his semi-sycophantic followers turned to see Doctor Catherine Halsey and Chief Petty Officer Mendez approaching their position. "Why?" Lord Hood asked, "The war's over, and it's unlikely that there will be another large-scale war in their lifetimes."

"They are…" she glared at Mendez. "…almost obsessive-compulsive when it comes to training, and they refuse to go into cryosleep for the sake of my sanity, so…" She shrugged. "Letting them run around like the children with lethal weapons that they are seemed like a good way to burn some energy at the time-"

BOOOOOOOM!

"Those better not have been real explosives!"

"Sorry, Mom!"

Halsey looked strangely flattered. "Did they just call me mom?"

"Grace, you heard mom: no more C4!"

"It's a paint bomb, not C4, Will!"

"Max effective radius?"

"About 70 meters."

"… Grace, that covers the whole playing field."

"So?"

"So we won't be able to tell our enemies from our allies!"

"Okay then. Attention all Spartans! We are now switching modes, from capture the flag to slayer!"

Halsey and Mendez could only shake their heads at the wild whoops of delight from within the semi-forest. "Hooligan children."

No one was able to argue with that.

**T is for Test**

**(Post Halo 3 AU)**

A/N: OOC

John scrawled an answer to yet another question on the random exam the Spartans were being forced to take, and read through the next question. "Indicate which United States Supreme Court case which overturned the 'separate but equal' principle for the South. Which case did this overturn?"

For a moment, he simply sat there, staring at the paper. 'Why, in all the hells, are they asking us, of all people, about something that happened almost six hundred years ago?'

Then he sighed. 'Dumbest question ever. Every idiot knows that _Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka_ overturned _Plessy v. Ferguson_.' He said as much on his paper before continuing the competency exam.

"Explain the significance of this result."

The Master Chief lifted his head and stared at the front of the room, a brown eyebrow slowly ascending into his hairline. He was sorely tempted to shout at the sky, "I had to fight through hoards of Flood and hostile Sentinels on not one but _three_ Halos, escape a wildcat fusion reactor, leave my AI on _High Charity_ with that cocksucker Gravemind, kill Truth, retrieve the aforementioned AI, fire a Halo, drive over turf that was crumbling beneath the tires, make a forty-foot leap into the _Dawn_'s cargo hold, and avoid Warthog and Scorpion projectiles, and _this_ is the worst you can throw at me?" However, that would constitute blasphemy in his nonexistent religion, so he merely sighed again and wrote his answer before moving on.

"Give at least three examples of controversy over the SPARTAN-II program."

THUD.

THUD.

THUD.

"Is there a problem, John?"

"Depends. Can I flip the table for emphasis?"

"Umm… sure."

The surface was promptly overturned, and he planted his boot on its underside, saying, "This test is too easy! Asking us question six is like asking US citizens who the first president was!"

"George Washington?"

"EXACTLY!"


	28. Extras 2

A/N: For the sake of these, all of the Spartans survived the augmentations and the Fall of Reach unless otherwise stated.

**F is for Familiar  
****(Post "Witch" Prompt)**

He woke to the feeling of not so much incredible cold as it was a lack of heat, of warmth, of life, and it made his teeth chatter as if he was frozen at the bottom of the deepest sea. A voice was speaking in his ear, but he could not understand what was being said, though the intent was clear: stop moving, you're worsening your condition. He stilled his body as best he could, ignore the cold as best he could, and the lip of a clay cup was pressed to his lips, the vessel of a silent command: drink.

He opened his mouth, and an almost boiling hot broth slid down his throat, making him choke and attempt to practically inhale the thick fluid from its container.

"Gently, gently! I don't need to revive you again; Nature was quite happy to do it once, I'm not so sure about a second time."

He knew that voice, but the name and the face were blurs in his mind, unable to be recalled. He relaxed for the moment, instinctively knowing that his memories would return with time, and he breathed easier as the broth was taken away, its warmth still creeping its way out into his extremities from his comfortably full stomach. After what seemed like hours, he was finally warm and content, the most basic amenities of life filled: food and warmth. Would he be receiving any water…?

Another clay bowl was pressed to his lips, and he swallowed the liquid offered: water too pure and sweet to be from any other place on Earth than his best friend's valley. But how had he gotten there? Or had someone taken water from the valley without her knowledge? Wasn't he at Thermopylae, fighting Xerxes and the Persians?

"Are you awake now? Can you move at all?"

That voice again. Unmistakably female, young, too, and she obviously knew him, or at least knew of him. But how…?

"Kelyos, you need to wake up. You've been asleep for almost twice the recommended amount of time. I know it takes time to get used to being alive after dying once, but this is ridiculous."

"Imoetia…?" he managed to whisper, and he felt her touch her hand to his paw.

"I'm here."

Wait. Paw?

The Spartan jerked fully awake before he could stop himself, already attempting to rise onto to legs, but he collapsed almost instantly, sprawled out on the floor of the witch's cottage. And there were wolf's legs stretched out in front of him.

"Oh, Zeus, tell me this is some kind of nightmare…"

"Hey, it's not that bad…"

"Not that bad? Imoetia, I'm an ANIMAL!"

"Not an animal; a shape shifting familiar."

"I thought I told you not to practice spell casting on me, no matter what you'd invented." Kelyos managed to get his rear off the ground, but as his front legs were still splayed out in front of him, all he managed to do was look undignified with his ass in the air. Which made Imoetia try to futilely hide her snickers as she wandered over to help her newly-revived boyfriend find his feet, carefully adjusting the positions of his paws until he was standing a little unsteadily, but standing just the same.

"I feel I am owed a little explanation, 'Tia," Kelyos said as she helped him adjust his center of balance as he began to take his first hesitant steps, "How am I supposed to explain this to the king?"

"Kel, it's been almost three years since the battle of Thermopylae," Imoetia said quietly, "The king is dead. And so were you."

"WHAT?" Kelyos tripped over his own paws as he took another step, sprawling out on the clay tiles of her kitchen floor. "Dead?"

"I couldn't let you go. I don't want to let you go. Not when you're all I've got." She sank down onto the floor, pulling her legs up to her chest and burying her face in her knees. The wolf got unsteadily to his feet and padded over to her, licking what little of her face was exposed. She gently scratched his ruff, crying quietly into his fur, and he curled around her until she had cried herself out.

"It's okay, 'Tia. I just wasn't expecting you to miss me so much that you'd use magic to bring me back." He tried to smile at her, but his lips couldn't form the expression, so he settled for rubbing against her side. She accepted his form of comfort, and proceeded to show him how to shape shift into his normal human form.

Of course, he was naked when he popped back into human state, and Imoetia was blushing furiously as she got him some clothes that we almost his size.

"C'mon, 'Tia, it's nothing you haven't seen before. You had a brother."

"But that was my BROTHER! Not my BOYFRIEND!"

Imoetia: Cortana

Kelyos: John

**F is for Father  
****(Post Halo 3)**

"Nnn…."

John felt the gentle, side-to-side brushing of lips against his and, recognizing the nearby heat source as his wife, responded to her gentle kisses with slowing increasing intensity as he roused himself fully from the embrace of sleep. Cortana eventually pulled away from the now rater passionate lip locks, her face flushed as she set a tray down on his still-covered legs.

"Breakfast in bed? What manner of flattery is this? Whatever it is, it works well," the Spartan said as he pulled the former AI close without upsetting the tray, brushing soft kisses along her jaw line before he let her push him away as she laughed.

"It's Fathers' Day, silly!" she giggled. 'Wait for it…'

John furrowed his brow in confusion. "But I'm not a…" It abruptly dawned on him as Cortana's smile widened into a smirk, and he barely had the presence of mind to set the breakfast tray where it could not be overturned before sweeping his wife off her feet and delivering a fierce kiss. "How long have you known?" he gasped between kisses, "When did you find out?"

She laughed breathlessly. "I've known for a few months now. Mom (Halsey) gave me an exam back when I had that 'stomach virus,' only it wasn't a virus at all."

Now that she was pressed against him, he could feel the swell of her belly, the unmistakable sign that his lovely bride was carrying their child. Unable to stop himself, he laughed delightedly before kissing her again.

**I is for Impossible  
****(Post Halo 3 AU)**

It wasn't supposed to end like this.

She'd watched it happen, they all had. Hell, she'd _been_ there when it happened, but it still refused to compute, the images looping over and over in perfect crystal clarity inside her mind. It tortured her, watching Fate take him from her over and over and over again, knowing that her chance to save him had already passed her by, the past as unchangeable as the Gravemind's nature.

She'd… never really thought that it would happen. That it could happen. The probability of… it… was so slim that it was practically impossible, so she had disregarded the calculation, put it aside to be computed later and contingence plans made. And now it was too late. She was outliving him with every not-breath that she took, every thought that she had.

Dammit… _It wasn't supposed to end like this!_

The medics had done all they could, even going so far as to use the defibrillator twice as many times as recommended in their attempts at revival, and she collapsed to her knees when they finally pulled away, shaking their heads, her silent sobs wracking her tiny body.

The impossible had happened: the Chief's luck was not enough to stop his death.

**S is for Satire  
****(AU-ish)**

"So why did she do this?"

"Because she's in a satirical mood today and felt like bashing Twilight. Here comes the next one."

"Kay. But, why am I the vampire?"

"Because Edward was turned before Bella."

"I see."

"Said the blind man."

"Dammit, Cortana, I never read the books or saw the movies! You know I don't have time for that kind of crap!"

"What makes you think I have?" The former AI carefully laid yet another book atop the other books lying on her Spartan's feet, which he was keeping perfectly level as he balanced his handstand. She clambered down off of the stool on which she had been standing and meandered on over to a nearby table in their shared room, selecting a book at random from the multitude of stacks and wandering back over to her "ladder." After a moment of climbing, she carefully laid that book atop its siblings and repeated the process until the books reached the ceiling.

Not one was out of alignment with the others, and the Spartan was balancing on one hand.

"If you were anyone else, I would say that this was impressive. As it is, I say you're just showing off."

"HEY! _I_ was the one doing stretching exercises after I woke up vampirized! _YOU'RE_ the one who started putting books on my feet!"

"Is 'vampirized' even a word?"

"It is now, dammit!"

**T is for Taste  
****(Post Halo 3)**

"Okay… how about this?" Cortana poured a little of the liquid onto a spoon and held the utensil out to the blindfolded Spartan. "Open up."

John swallowed what she offered and tilted his head slightly, thinking for a moment as he compared the taste, texture, viscosity of the liquid against his memory. "Whole milk?"

"You will never cease to amaze me. This?"

He made a slight gagging noise. "…Cheez Whiz."

"What about this?"

"Tomato soup."

"This?"

"…Pepsi. Too sweet to be Coke."

"Will wonders never cease? This?"

"Ack! Cortana, that's vinegar!"

**T is for Thunder / L is for Lightning  
****(AU)**

The storm, she mused, was going to knock over the temple's spire. The hurricane was raging over the town without any sign of abating anytime soon, so she knew that the storm god was _very_ angry. Rather, all of the gods were angry, but the storm god was the only one who could do anything about it at that particular moment in time.

It _was_ the rainy season, after all.

Cortana sat down in the rocking chair on her porch, watching the lightning flash across the sky, followed closely by the bone-shaking BOOM of thunder. She had always been very close to storm awesome force of nature that was the storm, unafraid as she danced in the fields amidst the lightning back when she was a small child. Even as a teen, she had run out of her house and into the streets, throwing out her arms and twirling in the falling water, ignoring her parent's attempts to lure her back inside, instead delighting in the renewal of life brought by the summer rains.

That had been several years ago now, before the God of Storms approached his high priest in a dream and told him that she was to be his next apprentice. There was an insane scandal because of his choice; there had never, ever been a high priestess before in their town, and until the situation could be resolved, she had been banished to a country home that overlooked the town.

"I see you aren't gallivanting around in the rain like you did as I child."

The voice was deep, masculine, and filled with raw power as its owner stood in the doorway that led in to her temporary residence. She didn't even need to turn around to see who had intruded upon her enforced solitude, already knowing the answer. "I am recovering from a cold, Excellency. The doctor says if I want to get better and not end up dying before I become High Priestess, I shouldn't go charging about when it's raining. The most he'll permit me to do is sit and watch it."

"I see." The God of Storms appeared in the corner of her eye, radiating grace and terrible skill. His short brown hair and intense brown eyes brought to mind a soldier, a commander, and the armor he wore only confirmed that: a broad chest plate, thigh and forearm armor, steel boots and gauntlets, all the color of the clouds overhead. What was not armor was an unusually flexible leather-like material the color of the sky at midnight. There were two longswords sheathed over his back, and a variety of daggers on his belt, each more lethal-looking than the last. "They are still deliberating."

"I hope they all drown when the Councilliar Hall is flooded." She scowled, and the god laughed.

"You never struck me as the malicious type."

"I am neither a lightning bolt nor a warrior, Excellency; I cannot 'strike' you."

He sank down into the chair next to her, chuckling at her choice of response. "I suppose that's true," he said.

"Excellency? If I may ask…"

"You may."

"Why me?" She purposely did not look at him as she spoke, as he was not looking at her at the moment. "Why did you choose me to replace the High Priest?"

"Because unlike him, you take joy in the storms I send, even going so far as to use them as your playground. You relish the life-giving water they bring to your otherwise arid land, the assurance of another year of existence. And…" He distinctly turned to look at her. "You are by far the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

She reddened and looked away from him, saying, "Lilith is prettier than I am, and Gabrielle…"

"The former is a slut; I couldn't rely on her to serve me faithfully. The latter has a nasty personality; everyone hates her." His face scrunched at the name.

"Alice…"

"Dacien, the Fire God, already has his eyes on her."

"Catherine…"

"Maira of the River wants her."

"Umm…"

He chuckled. "Out of names, aren't you?" Her blush deepened, and he said, "Trust me, Cortana, even if it doesn't look like it, I know what I'm doing."


	29. Extras 3

**B is for Balance  
(Post Halo 3)**

The universe, John mused was all about balance. Newton's law of conservation of force displayed one aspect of that: for any action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. And there would always be the whole "good versus evil" thing, and the good guy didn't always win; that was Disney's doing. Like the fact that Hercules had actually gone insane and killed people before he was made a god in ancient Greece.

There were times that it rained, and there were times that it was sunny. There were times that rivers flooded or were dry as a bone. There were times that days seemed to be going perfectly, without a hitch, and then there were the days that made you regret climbing out of bed that morning.

People were balanced, too; there were always opposites among people, from the extreme left to the extreme right in politics and in environmentalism, from the police and the criminals they caught, from – he snickered – the UNSC and the Insurrectionists who opposed them. Personalities had inverses, as well; there were those who were insanely shy, and then there were those who were insanely outgoing, those who were tight-asses and those who could not get more laid-back.

Cortana was his opposite. She was everything he was not: open and carefree, not even seeming bound in the slightest, while he was stoic and tense, tied to the UNSC for the rest of his life. She was not afraid to be blunt with even the highest ranking of officers and bigwigs, while he had to be careful with every word that he said. She completed that part of him that had been struggling to break free of all the duties and the rules and regulations for twenty-seven years.

And that, _that_ was why he loved her.

**D is for Disney  
(Post Halo 3)**

_Girl, don't be proud  
It's O.K. you're in love!  
__Oh, at least out loud,  
I won't say I'm in love…_

"Why are we watching this saccharine bullshit again?"

"CHIEF! Language! You're not an ODST! And Hercules is a classic Disney film. Since you didn't see it as a child, you're watching it now."

"I'd like to think I'd remember watching something this awful. I though Hercules went insane before he was made into a god?"

"It's Disney, Chief. Think about the groups they're marketing for."

_Put your faith in what you most believe in,  
Two worlds, one family.  
Trust your heart; let Fate decide  
To guide these lives we see…_

"Put my faith in what I most believe in, huh? I believe that a primed M9 HE-DP grenade down the shirt is the surest way to kill someone. Does that count?"

"I thought Spartans weren't supposed to be snarky."

"That's the front we show to the world; we're sarcastic sons of bitches to the core."

"_John…_"

_(Be a man) We must be swift as the coursing river  
(Be a man) With all the force of a great typhoon  
(Be a man) With all the strength of a raging fire  
Mysterious as the dark side of the moon…_

**E is for Element  
(Post Halo 3)**

Lately, Cortana noticed, some people had been trying to figure out if the Chief were an element, which one would he be?

Some claimed that he would be earth: a rock solid foundation to fall back on. He was an immovable object that towered over his foes like a mountain and crushed them beneath his boots like bug under a rockslide. Others pointed out that the Spartan could not be defeated, though he could be worn down like stone against water or sandblasting; there was always something left, no matter how small the piece might have been.

Some said he was water, the life-bringing and life-taking element, or its brother ice, the still element that holds all in potential. Water was capable of protecting, by sweeping away bridges before the enemy and unsettling horses back in the olden days, wiping away whole cities with the force of a tsunami, even freezing foes in their tracks. It was just as able to bring life, through rain and storms, the way his strength in battle enabled others to escape and continue on living.

Others insisted that his element was air, which all things needed to survive. Without him and his brothers and sisters, humanity would have been crushed by the Covenant juggernaut as it swept across the galaxy, the way humans cannot live without a clean source of air. He could beat down his enemies like a fierce wind, bringing up small hurts that would end up resulting in the death of the whole, the way sandblasting cold be used to cut through solid rock. He could be a refreshing breeze, surprising people with his ability to interact and soothe others.

Still more claimed that he was fire, the destructive element. He could be as deadly as a wildfire, consuming everything in its path, and yet at the same time enabling new life to form in its wake. He could stretch toward the stars like a flame climbing the tops of the tallest trees; he could penetrate deep into the earth and strike from below elsewhere.

Lightning was another popular choice, the instantaneous element. He could be as swift as a lightning strike, there and gone in the space of a second, possibly bringing death with his suddenness and speed; the thunderclap that followed was a warning given too late to prevent any damage.

Cortana was not one to linger over the subject of "which element would he be?" because she already knew the answer to the question that many had come to blows over. The Chief was not one of them; he was an element, a force of nature all his own.

**S is for Scream  
(Between Halo 3 levels Sierra-117 and Crow's Nest)**

A/N: Anaya Superior, this one's for you. I took a few liberties, but the basic idea is there. ;)

'Well, this is unusual.'

That was the first thought that entered John's mind when he found himself inside the room. It was big and white; there really were no other words to describe it. It had a passing resemblance to the room where Doctor Halsey had first gathered the Spartans, back when they were still six years old. The warrior descended from the top of the room, following the stairs down to the floor of the amphitheater, wary of attack.

He was not in his armor, just a set of standard fatigues, and once he assured himself that there were no niches in the walls that snipers could shoot out of, he returned to examining the room.

It had a high, vaulted ceiling, almost like an ancient Gothic cathedral, but without all of the ornate windows, and the amphitheater itself was just like the ones from ancient Greece: stone cut into the approximate shape of seats with steps cutting the circles from top to bottom at regular intervals. There was a podium in the center of the "stage," also pure white, making him the only spot of color.

He stepped over to it, peering down at the monochromatic display on its upper surface. The readouts were in foreign languages, but he could understand them perfectly; they told of the biomonitors of a "Test Subject B," showing that the subject's heart monitors were extremely elevated. Hormone responses indicated fear, and brainwaves were shooting off left and right; whoever this "subject B" was, they were clearly terrified and trying to come up with ways to escape. For some reason, he felt apathetic, uncaring; though this was a human – the monitors said so – he did not feel the need to investigate further. After all, he was here and they were there; there was no way of reaching them from where he was.

And then the first scream split the silence.

His head swung up, searching for some sign; he knew that scream, had heard it too many times before in real life and in his dreams to mistake it for something else. Cortana was in pain somewhere. She had not been brought into the room, he could see that; nothing but pure white walls greeted his eyes when he swung around, searching. Another scream fueled his desperation, and out of the wall blossomed –

A door. As white as the wall itself, almost invisible in the uniform light, and he sprinted toward it, thinking, 'What is she doing here? What are they doing that's causing an AI pain?' But even as he ran, the room seemed to grow more steps to the door, more levels to be climbed, and he shot a brief glance at the podium below. It was moving away at a constant pace, unlike the door. It was then that he realized, as another pained scream mixed with hysterical laughed reached his ears:the room was not getting larger.

The door was getting smaller.

He put on an extra burst of speed, his body thudding against it as he groped for the handle, which melted away just as he grasped it. The Spartan slammed his fist into the now empty wall, and the white drywall cracked under the sheer amount of force he put behind it, but to no avail. Another scream-laugh echoed though the air, followed by sobs, and John yelled her name, hoping she'd hear but instinctively knowing she wouldn't. After a moment, the screams died away, and he heard the heart monitors on the podium begin letting out a constant tone: the tone that signaled the death of the one who was being monitored.

"Cortana…"

The Spartan jerked away in the back of the Pelican, hand flying for his sidearm before he could repress the instinct. Johnson was looking down at him with something like concern clear on his face, cigar hanging out of one side of his mouth. "Y'all right, Chief?" he asked, offering the man a hand up, which he accepted, though he had to do most of the work. Even though he was a S-I, Johnson wasn't capable of lifting a half-ton mass of flesh and steel.

"I'm fine," the Chief said in reply, but all of the words in the world could not stop the feelings of foreboding that sent chills up and down his spine. He wasn't quite sure how, but he just knew that he needed to get back to Cortana, to get her off _High Charity_ as soon as possible.

**W is for Warlord  
(Forerunner AU)**

He was just doing his duty. It was nothing really; just repelling attacks on their borders by their less-than-friendly neighbors, but even the most critical of the empress' advisors agreed that he did so with abnormal skill. He led inferior numbers to victory over opponents that outnumbered them by three, sometimes four to one. He always, always, always managed to find and hold the best position against the army's foes. He knew how to work with the army, the navy, the air force, and the space corps, rallying any and all troops within reach of his voice to fight for their planet and their empress.

Which was why he was now standing outside Her Excellency's office, helmet under one arm, trying to work up the courage to knock. It was shameful, he mused, that he could charge into battle low on ammunition and with little to no support but he could not work up the guts to go speak to the woman who had given him so much freedom with regards to the movements and commanding of the military. Finally, he sighed and bit the bullet, lifting his arm and rapping sharply on the titanium barrier. There was a moment of silence, then: "Enter."

The door slid open, and he stepped inside, shoulders back, eyes alert, the very picture of the perfect soldier. "You wanted to see me, Excellency?"

The Empress of Soraceon, their nation, looked up from her paperwork, appearing surprised for a moment before brightening. "Ah, yes! At ease. Thank you for coming so swiftly." She was nothing like her expected; barely out of her teens and into her twenties, the image of a youthful monarch, her black hair framing her young, blue eyed face. "Based on your last communication, I gathered that another promotion was not entirely welcome-"she smiled understandingly when he visibly winced at the thought, "-so I wanted to ask you what you want for your invaluable service."

He hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. "There is nothing that I desire at this moment in time, Your Highness."

She stood up and walked around her desk so she could lean against the front edge. "Not even an estate? Or perhaps a wife?"

Based on her expression, she had picked up on his wince as her last question, so he felt the need to explain. "My… parents have been… insisting that I settle down and get married for some time now," he said carefully, "but caring for a wife – and possibly children – would take away from the time that I could spend defending my country."

She laughed. "You really are a fighter to the core, aren't you? When was the last time you went on leave?"

"Uh, I think it was… seven, maybe eight years ago?"

The empress' eyebrows almost disappeared into her hairline. "Years? And you haven't gone on leave because…?"

"No reason. My parents and I don't… get along very well, and I don't have any other family or friends worth visiting. They're all in the military. Majesty," he said belatedly, realizing how informal he was being with her.

"Please," she said, waving a hand in a dismissive gesture, "Call me Cortana. I hate it when people call me by me title."

"As you wish… Cortana."

As he was unable to tell her of anything he truly desired – besides _not_ getting promoted – she let him return to his duties as he was before, but she refused to leave his head. He thought about her when he led his men to victory against the P'Vort, a race of intergalactic slavers that _no one_ liked. He thought about her when he was on one of the moon bases, overseeing the restocking of the spaceships that the navy used. She was on his mind almost every waking moment, and he couldn't help but think that she was extraordinarily wise for one so young. She had eliminated all of the waste of her father's era, left the doing of things she didn't understand to those who knew how to do them, and listened to her advisors but made her own decisions. She was not afraid to sacrifice her own comfort for that of her people, or a little for the good of the whole. Everyone loved her, or at least respected the reforms she had brought.

Then, at a state affair celebrating Soraceon's alliance with several of their neighbors, he saw her again, standing off to one side, hugging a shadowed wall. It was obvious that she was not entirely at ease anywhere near these men who had tried to have her assassinated untold times while she was still a little girl, so he materialized at her side, guiding her out into the palace gardens. "You look about as comfortable as I feel, Excellency," he told her, holding out a glass of wine-that-wasn't. She was not yet of age, so she was not permitted to drink the real stuff by her own laws for several years yet. It was actually just grape juice that had been flavored like wine.

She distinctly moved to shelter against his side, pressing herself against his armored body like she wanted to climb into his skin and hide there until the gathering was over. "I don't like here. I never cared for state affairs; they bring back bad memories." She shuddered, hands fisting in her silken, sky-blue dress. "Father would always return drunk and rape the servant girls."

He hesitantly laid an arm around her shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze and making her slightly distant bodyguards look scandalized. "That won't happen anymore." Her father, Emperor Felrious, had died of liver failure and a stroke three years prior to the present event.

"I know, but that doesn't stop the fear. I have nightmares all the time." She buried her face in his shoulder.

He was just doing his duty. But that didn't stop him from falling in love with and marrying his Empress.


End file.
